


A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss

by somethingclever



Series: Tim IS a caring and nurturing person. [3]
Category: Justified
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingclever/pseuds/somethingclever
Summary: Tim's had enough of the cold and being alone.What do you mean, there's an opening in the Everglades National Reserve?  That wouldn't be... weird, would it, Raylan?





	A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to this universe! Now that I've successfully gotten this chapter out, I should be able to continue progressing with this 'verse, if there's interest! I know not everybody likes kid!fic, but I promise, it's mostly Tim and Raylan.

There was cold, Tim thought, and then there was cold.  He'd been raised - and trained- throughout the South, sent to the Middle East, and returned to the South.  
  
And then, like a fucking window-licking moron, accepted a post at fucking Yellowstone national park, and proceeded to freeze himself to death.  
  
The air hurt his face and burned his lungs and he had to wrap Artie's carrier in a blanket, and even then, he was afraid his baby was gonna freeze. He checked him, sliding his fingers into the little flap to be sure it was warmer, got drooled on for his efforts.  
  
The car took forever to warm up, even in the garage, and the weather people cheerfully said things like 'negative thirty wind chill.'  So cheerful.  
  
Afghanistan's mountains were cold at night, and he'd spent a fair few nights on them, but always with a spotter warm against his side and a target glowing like a fire.  And then the sun would rise and the day would burn his skin another shade darker. This was senseless, shitty cold, and the sun was cold, and...  
  
And it made him realize for the first time, that he was alone.  He and his son were alone.  He worked and returned from work and took Artie home, with no more than a handful of words spoken, and connecting to his friends from the service grew harder and harder.  He had enjoyed the solitude until it became loneliness, his voice and Artie's profanities that he wanted to quell, to keep that holy silence of the woods intact. It was cold inside and out.  
  
He put in for the first transfer he could get away from the savageness.  If it had been just him, he might have stayed, and once, when he was young, he would have thrown himself at nature, kicked and screamed and fought, but he was older, maybe wiser, and his little boy didn't need this shit burning in his lungs when he tried to breathe.  
  
"If you don't like the cold," his boss grinned, "I have just the place."  
  
"Hawaii?" He asked hopefully, and laughed, because a posting in Hawaii was winning the lottery while being struck by lightning and marrying a super model.  
  
"Nope," she said, "Like I'm gonna send you somewhere nice? No," she smiled, "I feel like you'd do great in..."  
  
"I won't do D.C.," he warned, just the thought of living in front of those monuments to his brothers sickening him.  
  
"No," Emily agreed, "Too nice for you.  I feel like you'd enjoy wrestling gators and people looking for the Magic Kingdom."  
  
"...Florida?" Raylan was in Florida, Art liked to visit Florida, Rachel was in Tennessee and he could visit her or- there was Fort Mutter and his friends still in the Rangers cycling through, and the air, while thick, didn't hurt to breathe.  
  
"The Everglades, so Miami, but I gotta say, I have heard about people looking for Disney there-"  
  
"I'll take it."  
  
"You're sure? It's... well, it's humid, and hot, and-"  
  
"Ma'am, I have been to Florida."

*

Moving cross-country with an infant was harder than he'd ever imagined.  He'd hired a sitter (and that was an adventure- he made them follow him room to room with Artie) as he packed the apartment into his truck and rented trailer, and driven down and across the country.  
  
Artie was as good a driving buddy as he could be, but Tim was worn out.  The baby slept while he drove, and screamed when he stopped in a hotel.  
  
Tim was grateful for SERE training and experience in sleeplessness, but when he hit Miami at three thirty in the afternoon on a Friday, he was ready for a fuckin' break. His eyes were gritty and burning, and his left leg was probably gonna be cramping for days.  Raylan had offered to let them stay with him until he got his new place- which he'd bought sight unseen- was moved into.  Thank god.  
  
He pulled into Raylan's drive beside the town car and lifted Artie out, grabbing his diaper bag with the other hand.  "Hey, Ray," he greeted as his friend came out of the front door of his condo. "Sorry, he's fussy-"  
  
"You look shitty," Raylan said, "Gimme the kid, go shower, eat something, and sleep."  
  
"I can take care of-"  
  
"Did I stutter, Tim?"  
  
Tim kissed Artie on the forehead, grabbed his go-bag, and went to take his first shower in three days that hadn't included holding a screaming child.  
  
It was bliss.  He scrubbed down thoroughly, did nothing but luxuriate for a moment or two, and then got out, dressed in clean clothes, and went back out to the kitchen.  
  
Raylan's place was nice, and Tim realized suddenly how much Raylan must have hated to be in Kentucky- and how much he'd left in Miami in storage.  This was actually... homey. And very Raylan, from the comfortable couch and practical bathroom to the movie posters and a couple healthy-looking plants on the bathroom sill.    
  
He came into the kitchen, where Artie was sucking down a bottle, clinging to Raylan’s hand, tiny fingers toying with the silver horseshoe and staring at Raylan in fascination. "Think he likes me."  
  
"Likes the hat."  
  
"Or that. Bought you a sub on the way home," he nodded towards the fridge, "And then sleep. Little man and I will be fine."  
  
"You sure? His schedule is all forms of fucked-"  
  
"Cryin' kids don't scare me," Raylan said, "You lookin' like a zombie? That's scary."  
  
Tim inhaled the food, thanked Raylan, and collapsed on the futon in the spare bedroom- Artie's pack and play was already set up beside it.  
  
He didn't wake up until five am, feeling much better, and less homicidal.  He fed and changed Artie, snuggled him back to sleep, and got up to shower and see about coffee.  
  
He made a full pot, and drank his first cup slowly.  Raylan had good taste in coffee, and it had been a few days since he’d had any that hadn't been truck stop swill. He grabbed a book and settled in to wait for Raylan - or his son- to wake up.  
  
"So," Raylan came out of the hallway a few hours later, looking groggy, unshaven, and rumpled in his boxers and wifebeater, "Where's this place you bought?"  
  
Tim told him, and Raylan blinked. "So, a mile and a half from here?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You bought a house in my neighborhood," Raylan said, amused.  
  
Shit. That was weird. "I didn't mean-"  
  
"Oh, hell, Tim, it's not a big deal. I wouldn't care if you moved in next door! I'm looking forward to having you around a little- I don't miss Kentucky, by god!, but I do miss the office there."  
  
"We all made a good team, once we..." Tim made a face, waving his hand.  
  
"Stopped being assholes?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, it's a nice neighborhood," Raylan said.  
  
"I know. It's why I picked it."  
  
*  
Raylan helped move them in, during Artie's nap, and Tim looked around the house in satisfaction. Not bad, not bad...  
  
It hit home, though, how little he had by way of personal items, especially as compared to Raylan's place- which was so cozy and friendly, and here, well, it was echoing, except for Artie's room which had his mobile hung, his bookshelf set up, and rocking elephant tucked underneath the window.  Tim sighed a little.  
  
How do you make something homey for a kid?  He wandered to the kitchen, frowning as he ate a piece of bread- he had to go shopping soon- and drank a beer.  
  
Maybe pictures, something on the walls? But he knew jack-all about that shit.  
  
Well, he thought, he'd learn.  Kid couldn't live in an empty house.


End file.
